


Evening Tea

by Evilsforreals



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:54:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilsforreals/pseuds/Evilsforreals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi all! Got another rare-pair one-shot for you! Requested by imagining-scribbles, and gimmes! Enjoy!</p></blockquote>





	Evening Tea

Armin looked up, his eyes still blurry from sleep. The candle on the desk had melted down to a mere stub, flickering meagerly in the darkness. Armin grimaced. He had fallen asleep at the desk again. Slowly, he pulled his head up from the tabletop, and surveyed the mess of books and papers lying in heaps around him. He sighed. This was becoming a bad habit, always falling asleep in the study. He bent to pick up a piece of parchment that had fallen to the ground, when he caught a slight whiff of cinnamon.

Armin sniffed again. It was definitely cinnamon. His stomach made a slight gurgle, as he looked around, searching for the source of the smell. Cinnamon had been his favorite spice; it was a rare find, but his parents had always had a pinch of it to add to their porridge every day. Armin lifted up one of the piles of books and saw a cup.

It was one of the mess hall tankards, fit snugly behind the pile of books. A slight wisp of steam was coming from the cup. Hesitantly, Armin reached out, and grasped the tankard, lifting it up and giving it a cautionary whiff. The scent of apples and cinnamon erupted in his nostrils. It was apple-cinnamon tea, one of the only things the mess hall offered that Armin always enjoyed.

Armin took a deep gulp. It had cooled slightly, but was still warm, as the spices tingled in his mouth and nose. He took another swig, before looking around the room. All was quiet and dark. He squinted at the clock on the other side of the room. It was 3:15am. Who was up at this hour making tea for people?

 

* * *

 

The training horn rang out across the barracks. Armin groaned and pulled himself up out of bed. The other cadets were all beginning to rise, yawning and groaning to themselves as they began to pull on their uniforms. Armin turned, to see Bertholdt, still asleep in a contorted position with drool spilling out of his mouth. Armin didn’t see Reiner anywhere in sight, and gently prodded the taller boy.

“Bertholdt…Bertholdt it’s time to get up.

Bertholdt’s eyes sagged open, and he stared at Armin with a mixture of exhaustion and pure hatred.

“Why’d you wake-“

“The training horn already sounded Bertholdt.”

The anger in his eyes immediately changed to panic. “Oh shit,” Bertholdt swore as he attempted to leap out of bed, but instead only managed to fling half his body off the bed, landing on the ground with a thud. Armin rushed to the other side to pull him up.

“You ok?”

Bertholdt nodded. With some difficulty, Armin was able to pull him up to his feet. Then the two boys set out towards the field to begin the morning practice. “Sorry for snapping,” Bertholdt muttered as they jogged towards the rest of the group, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Last night…Armin suddenly remembered the cup of tea. “Were you the one that left a cup of tea at my desk?” he asked curiously as they finally caught up to the rest of the soldiers.

Bertholdt looked like he was about to answer, when Shadis called them to attention, and gave a quick shake of the head instead. Armin was slightly annoyed. He was back to square one.

 

* * *

 

Armin looked down dejectedly at the fresh batch of papers on the desk that he had written in class. He had spent the day asking the 104th squad who had left it, but either no one knew, or no one was willing to say. He sighed again. He just wanted to know who, that was all…right? Armin groaned as he lay his face down on the cool wood of the table. Maybe if he analyzed who was aware of his love of cinnamon, and used the hypothesis to…to extrapolate the possible…subjects…

 

* * *

 

Armin was dreaming. He was running through the streets of town. Cinnamon sticks were everywhere, dangling from laundry lines, lined up in the stalls, every conceivable place was full of cinnamon. He stared stupidly as Connie and Sasha swung by, carrying huge cinnamon sticks shaped like swords. And then he noticed the ground was growing wet. Saturated with something warm and sticky. The clear liquid was rising quickly, suddenly up to Armin’s neck, he was fighting to stay up, but there was too much too much-

“Damn it!”

Armin’s head shot up from the desk, a warm trickling sensation travelling down his back. He pawed at his eyes to rid them of sleep, and saw another beaker tipped over on the desk, the contents of it leaking into his stack of notes. It smelled of cinnamon. Armin suddenly realized he was drenched in tea, and jumped up, trying to wipe the sticky liquid off of himself.

There was a slight movement from the corner. Armin turned, to see Marco, looking absolutely horrified, clutching a pitcher in his hands like a shield, holding it up in front him. Armin stared at him for several seconds, completely stunned at this strange scene; him soaked in tea, and Marco looking like he was about to be attacked by a wild animal. The two stared open-mouthed at one another. The seconds crawled by until Armin finally broke the silence. “Marco what are you-“

“I tripped.” Marco whispered, still looking horrified, but slowly lowering the pitcher. “I was-well I was pouring something and I tripped on one of those damn books and I-“

“You were the one leaving me tea at night?”

Marco’s eyes looked they were about to pop out of his head. He lifted his head to try to vocalize his reasons, but only a faint line of gibberish escaped his mouth, while his hand was jerking and twitching awkwardly at his side, and after several attempts, he bowed his head and nodded faintly.

Armin smiled. He stepped forward, but froze as he felt his shoes squelch with spilled tea. Marco turned red with embarrassment, and started to apologize, but Armin stopped him.

“It’s ok, just help me get cleaned up, ok?”

 

* * *

 

“It’s going to be cold water since the fires went out, sorry,” Marco muttered meekly as he burst into the locker room with a large basin of water. Armin looked up, halfway through extricating himself from his drenched shirt. The soaked wool was proving difficult to move in. Marco set the basin down, and moved behind Armin, gently grabbing the shirt, and pulling it up and over Armin’s head.

“Thanks,” Armin said softly. He stepped behind the curtain, pulling the basin with him. With a quick movement, his pants were off, and he tossed them out. There was a slap, and a muffled exclamation, as Armin quickly turned around to see Marco standing there with Armin’s soaked pants on his head.

“Oh god, I’m sorry!” Armin exclaimed, as he reached out and pulled the offending article off of Marco’s head. His face was now equally drenched in tea. But after a moment he grinned sheepishly.

“I guess we’re kind of even now, huh?”

“I didn’t mean-ah, I wasn’t thinking and-“

Marco smiled wider. “Mind if I clean up too?”

Armin felt a strange sensation along his midriff. He slowly nodded. Marco quickly stripped down and stepped past the curtain, naked except for a small towel he wrapped around his waist. Armin was never one to peek at the other guys during training, but Marco’s freckles were always something that the entire platoon found interest in. Soft brown dots that stood out against his slightly lighter skin covered his entire body.

Marco sat down opposite Armin, and dipped a washcloth into the basin, wringing it out before scrubbing his face and hair with it. Armin followed suit, and for a few minutes the boys were in silence, save for the occasional drip of water. Armin suddenly felt a slight chuckle working it’s way up his throat. He tried to halt it, but moments later, it worked its way out. Marco looked over at him quizzically. “Something wrong?”

Armin laughed softly at that. “Well, this isn’t exactly how I expected to spend my evening. Mopping tea off myself at 2 in the morning.”

Marco managed a weak grin. “Yeah, I guess it’s kind of funny.”

Armin gazed at him intently. “So I have to ask. Why the tea?”

Marco’s shoulders slumped. “And we’re back to that…”

Armin waved his hands admonishingly. “It’s fine. I’m really just curious at this point.”

Marco took a deep shuddering breath, his chest rising slightly, and then looked at Armin apologetically. “Well I overheard you talking about how you liked cinnamon from a conversation you had with Eren and Mikasa. I know a secret way into the kitchen, and so it was pretty easy to sneak in there.”

Armin’s eyebrows raised. “You found a way in that Sasha doesn’t know about?”

At this, Marco raised a finger threatingly. “And if you’re wise, you’ll keep that information to yourself. She’d attack me if she knew.”

Armin laughed. “Ok, ok, deal…but you didn’t really answer my question. Why me?”

Marco looked down at the floor of the room, drilling holes in it with his eyes. But when he looked up to meet Armin’s gaze again they were soft and gentle. “Because…no one in this squad works harder than you…and…I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Armin’s face grew warm again. Marco didn’t seem to notice as he plowed on. “And-and you’re working as hard as you can in every aspect of training. Even more than Eren. And we all know it. Hardly a day goes by when Connie or Jean mentions it. You’re an inspiration to the team.”

Armin gripped the edge of the seat. _Why would they find inspiration in one of the worst soldiers in the corps?_

“Because there’s more to being a soldier than fighting.”

Armin looked up confused. “How’d you know what I-“

Marco cocked an eyebrow at him. “You just said that out loud.”

“Did I?” Armin muttered, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked away, putting much more effort into washing himself than before. He suddenly felt a hand gently squeezing his hsoulder.

“Armin, you need to give yourself more credit.”

Marco was inches away, his face worried, several freckles disappearing behind the frown lines. Armin’s breath caught in his throat, sliding back slightly from Marco, until his head hit the wall.

Marco instantly backed off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s all right,” Armin murmured his head down.

“You need to realize how important you are to the people around you,” Marco persisted. “You mean so much to…to me.”

Marco clapped a hand to his mouth, his face lighting up like a fireball, instantly shades of pink and red flushing his skin. For a moment, Armin couldn’t move. He was struck dumb in the moment. _Someone cares. More than a friend, someone cares about me. Someone believes in me._

Armin lunged forward, and wrapped his arms around Marco’s waist. He was warm. He heard Marco make a slight squeak of surprise, and then he felt Marco’s arms embracing him, clutching him tighter and tighter. Armin felt tears falling of their own accord down his cheeks, but he didn’t care. He quietly sobbed into Marco’s chest.

But for the first time in a long time, they were happy tears.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Got another rare-pair one-shot for you! Requested by imagining-scribbles, and gimmes! Enjoy!


End file.
